O brother, my brother
by Beckydaspatz
Summary: Just snippets, moments between our favorite brothers, no Winchest. Set between Like a Virgin and The man who would be king.


**A.N. Hi again! Was listening to "Running up that hill" by Placebo today and I just thought 'Huh, this really reminds me of Sam and Dean.' which could be a mixture of my love of Sam and Dean and my own twisted psyche. However, their relationship is pretty damn dysfunctional. Any who, love them and love the show. So this is my second attempt at writing for the lovely Winchesters, takes place between Like a Virgin S6 and The man who would be King. Just moments, snippets between my favorite brothers. NOT a song fic, told from Deans' POV. Love you guys, thanks so much as always for reading!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine...sadly :(**

The difference is like night and day. The embrace between him and his brother warms his heart and it is so nice and warm and _Sammy_ that he has to blink back hot tears. The first hug when he was reunited with Sam was one sided, him gripping tightly into shoulders too big for a little brother and choking on the swell of emotion that was tight in his chest. This one is firm, two pairs of hands clasping and pulling and above all else trying so damn hard to convey a love that had never been spoken. This one was just right and he was beyond grateful for it. When Sam pulls away, he watches him in awe. Yeah there is some nasty business between them and some things that will need sorted out, but for now all he can think is 'Thank God.' because his brother is back.

He still hasn't breathed normally yet. Shuddering sighs and gasping for air replacing the usual rise and fall of his chest. Because all he can think about it Sam. His eyes, the flicker of fire too hot for words, and the frantic gulp of air as if he was coming back from the dead...again. It's too much to take, to have to carry the burden of his brothers sanity and well being. But God he's be lying if he said it wasn't worth it. But still he can't breathe. Sam is sitting besides him, rubbing the bridge of his nose and sighing heavily in a way Dean learned a long time ago meant he was in pain but didn't want to bother anyone with it.

And then Sam huffs out "Ow." softly, Dean having to crane his head towards him to hear it.

"You okay?" He asks in turn, moving to face him, eyes flitting between the road and his brother.

"Yeah, just..." the younger man pauses, rubbing his eyes and shifting in the seat. Shifting into something sharp. "Something's stabbing me."

Dean slams on the brakes so hard his baby lets out a squeal of protest and then he is out, around the side of the car and yanking the door open so he can assess his brothers situation. He has one hand placed on the side of his brothers face, other digits seeking out a pulse, worry making him look twice his age as he whispers. "What is it, Sammy?"

Sam winces leaning away from the seat, hand crossing behind his back to dislodge the thing causing him discomfort. "What the..." he started, clashing gazes with his confused older brother. In his hand was a plastic spork, one tip bent from the impact of meeting Sams' back. They both stare at the object, the irony that it looks a little bit like a pitch fork not lost on either of them. Sam laughs first, a big, full chuckle pulling up from his belly and before he knows it Dean lets one out too. And it feels so _good, _laughing with his brother. Dean doesn't know where the hell the damn thing came from or how long it's been lodged somewhere in the seat, but staring at his little brothers happy smile he can't seem to care. Finally the hysteria dies down and Dean asks again. "You okay?"

Sam holds the spork at eye level. "Dude, seriously, invest in plates."

"Plates?" he says, as if it's a foreign concept. " Where's your sense of adventure Sammy?"

"Must have left it in my other bag." he answers dryly and Dean grins at him. Feeling relief for the first time since Sam had collapsed.

"Oh yeah, the one with the pink unicorn on it. Now I remember." he smirks, shoving off of Sam as he moves back into the front seat.

His hand is about to turn the key in the ignition when Sam grumbles out. "You're such a jerk man."

Dean answering beam is about as genuine as it's ever been when he retorts. "Quit your crying bitch."

He doesn't miss the soft chuckle from his side or the playful punch to his arm. Maybe Sam wasn't the only one coming back to life.

The beer that is handed to him is cold and feels heavenly sliding down his throat and into his empty gut. It doesn't hurt that he knows the alcohol will take the edge off...eventually. Third beer down and all he feels is numb. He's had a chance to really look at Bobby now and the man looks old. Worn and run down and the kind of tired that no amount of sleep helps. And he can't help thinking about all the crap he's loaded unto the poor mans shoulders, and how many times he has told him, I mean really told him, how much he appreciates the weight he carries.

"How you doing?" Sam asks besides him as he takes a swig from the bottle.

"Peachy." he answers without missing a beat.

"Yeah. Okay." his brother replies because he knows he's not okay, but Dean doesn't talk about anything until he is good and ready to.

Dean sighs, setting down his beer hard, running a hand over his face. God he could use a good nights sleep. He almost laughs at the likeness of _that_ ever happening.

"How's Bobby?" he asks, because he needed to hear something other than everything unspoken between the two of them.

It's Sams' turn to sigh. "He's drunk. Passed out at his desk finally, I tried to move him, but he's almost as stubborn as you." he flashes his brother a weary smile.

Dean lifts out of his chair, clapping a hand on Sams' shoulder. "I'll help you get him."

His reward is a grin and a tiny glimmer of light in his eyes. "Thanks Dean."

"Yeah, no problem." he replies, pulling his brother to his feet. " Can't believe you can't manage Bobby on your own. You're such a girl."

Sam shoves off him with a forced sigh of annoyance which tapers off into a laugh at the end. "Shut up."

He hates that his brother knows him so well. Hates and loves it. It's a double edged sword having someone notice every. Little. Thing. That happens to you. He had barely gotten out his line of bravado and taking down Eve before he noticed the twinge in his shoulder. Damn. Bullet grazed him. He moved out of the room, grateful that Bobby and Cas were out of it enough to not see he stepped with a slow and painful gait. His brother noticed though, barely let him get ten feet out of the room before he said softly. "Dean."

He forced a smile at Sam. "Yeah?"

His eyes bore into him, through him, cutting the crap in a way no one ever had. "I'll grab the first aid kit." he stated simply, waiting for Dean to argue.

He relaxed his stance, shoulder slumping as he let out a soft sigh. He could fight Sam, tell him he was fine, lie, and shuffle into the bathroom to treat his shoulder himself. Or he could give in, let Sam take care of him in the way he craved and not have to deal with the exasperation of having to doctor a wound he could barely see. Mind made up he turned back to him with a small nod. "Okay Sammy, but don't keep me waiting. I'm not a prom date."

His brother chose to ignore the comment, taking off to grab the first aid kit. Dean realized letting his brother help him was a lost less of giving in and a lot more of letting go.

His heart breaks all over again as he watches his brother rise from the couch and stumble over to him. Sam is rubbing sleep from his eyes and looks about five. He'd do anything to give that innocence back to him. "Dean?' he mutters sleepily, having finally succumbed to exhaustion after every single inch of the house had been angel proofed...or so they thought.

"Go back to sleep Sammy."

"I heard you talking to someone, was it Cas?" he asked, becoming alert within seconds as he took in the room.

He thought about lying to him, prodding him to go back to bed until he noticed Sam was already mentally observing the tight posture and white knuckled hands. With a deep exhale he met his brothers eyes. "Yeah it was."

"Well what did he say?"

"Nothing that can't wait till morning Sam." Dean muttered having shared all he wanted to at the moment.

His eyes did that misty thing they did when he could literally feel what Dean was feeling and he cursed low, under his breath. He didn't think he could handle the heart to heart tonight.

Sam crossed the room in four long strides, plopping down on the couch next to him. He wanted to talk, the desire etched in every feature on his face. Dean hoped to all that was holy that he could wait till morning, he was stretched so tight he was sure he would snap. An arm gently pressed against his elbow.

"Whatever it is Dean, we will figure it out."

He locked eyes with Sam, the emphasis of "we" not lost on Dean. The promise that no matter how messed up this thing was with Cas, he still had his brother and if anyone could talk Cas out of doing something stupid it was Sammy.

"Thanks Sam." he said, voice gruff, body letting go of the tension like a rubber band. He sank into the couch, shoulder to shoulder with the giant next to him.

Sam still looked like he wanted to talk, to say something to ease his brothers pain.

"Go to sleep freak." Dean mumbled fondly, already feeling the pull of sleep as his head followed where there shoulders were joined.

"Yeah, okay Dean." his brother answered, a response echoed so many times before.

The familiarity made Dean grin, content as his little brother actually listened to him and they both were able to rest.

**a.w. I love Bobby Singer! There were two shots on the high noon scene on Frionterland! I hope Cas doesn't die! That is all. Season finale in 3 days you guys! AhHHHHHHH! Can't wait :D**


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